


Bandits on the Road

by enthusiasmgirl



Series: Five Times Aziraphale Was Inconveniently Discorporated (And One Time He Wasn't) [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Discorporation (Good Omens), Gaslighting, Gen, Heaven, Paperwork, The Character Death is Just Discorporation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enthusiasmgirl/pseuds/enthusiasmgirl
Summary: This time, it wasn't even Aziraphale's fault he was discorporated. But that doesn't mean he isn't still due for a stern talking to from Gabriel.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Five Times Aziraphale Was Inconveniently Discorporated (And One Time He Wasn't) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564900
Kudos: 8





	Bandits on the Road

**Author's Note:**

> This was formerly posted as the second chapter of a larger multichapter fic, but I've split it into a series since I realized that every part was going to stand relatively alone.

**412 AD**

Oh no, Aziraphale thought, panicked. This wouldn't do. It just wouldn't do at all.

He'd been discorporated again.

it had been rather painful, actually, and unlike the last time burned into his memory permanently. It would be hard to forget, he imagined, the feeling of being run through with a sword. Right through his poor heart, more than even a miracle could help. He'd only been a traveller on the road, minding his own business, heading to North Africa for a visit with Augustine. He cursed himself for not taking better precautions after the innkeeper warned him of the possibility of bandits. Took a moment to silently pray that his murderers wouldn't be damned eternally solely based on that one act. They hadn't known he was an angel, after all. Hadn't wanted to know anything about him, in fact, other than that he must have had something they wanted. But then, times were desperate. The human world seemed on the precipice of something. Aziraphale was sure that it wasn't their fault.

And now he was once again in a familiar room. Steel walls, tile floors, no furniture, one door. Alone.

Once again, he waited. Once again, he was forced to call attention to himself. Once again, the clerk eyed him cooly and handed him a clipboard.

At least this time he'd carefully noted and memorized all of the necessary specifications required to replicate his corporeal form exactly. No incurring the suspected and highly inappropriate wrath of the clerk this time. He carefully filled out each and every page thoroughly and completely in crisp, neat handwriting. He didn't want there to be any mistakes.

She took it, and instructed him again to sit and wait. And wait. And wait. He tried several times to remind her of his presence, only to receive a glare that seemed to bypass his conscious thought and result in a total loss of control to have moved from his chair even if he wanted to. And so he kept waiting.

Then, finally, he heard footsteps. And the last person he wanted to see appeared.

"Ah, Gabriel," he said, attempting to finally stand up at last and trying not to sound like he'd just been asked to swallow arsenic. "I can explain-"

"No need, Aziraphale," said Gabriel firmly. "We understand what happened. It doesn't seem to have been your fault-" and Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief which was shortlived since Gabriel added "this time" to the end of the sentence.

"Well, thank you," Aziraphale said anyway, hoping it didn't come across how put out he was. "So!" he clapped his hands together, ready to leave. He deflated when Gabriel was suddenly holding his stack of forms, looking down at them intently and rifling through the pages.

"Is something amiss?" he asked tentatively.

"Hmmmm?" said Gabriel casually, as though Aziraphale were interrupting him and not waiting expectantly to find out why he wasn't already in his new body on Earth. "Oh. I just wanted to doublecheck some of these specifications you indicated. I suspect you may have made a few mistakes."

"Mistakes?" Aziraphale asked, confused.

"Yes," Gabriel said, gesturing to the clerk. She handed him a second stack of paperwork, thicker than the one he had filled out. "It seems there are some discrepancies between what you provided and the most recently available information." He waved the new stack. "Specifically around your waist, leg and torso measurements."

At that, he sighed deeply and patted his stomach gently, a self-conscious reflex. "Well I... There must be some mistake. I was very exact when I took those measurements following my last discorporation."

"Yeah," Gabriel said with a smirk, like there was something Aziraphale was missing. "Exactly. I think maybe we need to have a little talk. Go over these discrepancies together and discuss them. Don't you?" It wasn't really a question. He put a firm hand on Aziraphale's shoulder and turned them both towards the hallway, expecting to be followed.

When he finally opened his eyes again in his new body, after a lengthy and unpleasant talking to about gross matter and indulgence and human temptations, Rome had long since fallen. The Middle Ages had begun. And, as he patted himself down gently doublechecking that everything was in order, he couldn't help but wonder if in fact he'd come back a bit heavier than before. And perhaps even a couple of inches shorter? He reassured himself that Gabriel would never do that. But he still spent the next several weeks feeling as though his sense of balance was not quite right before he got used to it. More than used to it in the end, as he quickly became delighted to learn that It if one looked more approachable and like they enjoyed good food, they were likely to be offered more of it.

But still, he vowed to himself to be more careful.


End file.
